Pushing My Sister Too Far

***This is part ten of a 13 part series following an evolving incestuous relationship between adult siblings. You would enjoy this much more if you read the previous eight, but it can also be read as a standalone. All previous chapters are displayed in order under the series "A Brother and Sister's Journey" on my profile. All characters in sexual situations are over 18.***

I fucked up.

Can you still call it a fuckup if you knew the thing you did was fucked up before you fucked it up?

Of course not.

But, the worst kind of fuck up is the kind that was totally avoidable, like mine. Despite making her limits completely and unambiguously clear, I had crossed them in a way I knew Kelly would be mad about.

She told me again and again that she wanted me to be more honest with her when it came to my fantasies, no matter how messed up they were. Plus, she had been crystal clear about where she stood in relation to anything involving her daughter, Reagan.

Each time I took another little step in the wrong direction I told myself that it was finally going to be my last step. I jerked off to Reagan's pictures and Kelly picked up my guilt, so I eventually told her. To my surprise, she was fine with me doing it, she only objected to the secrecy.

Then, when Reagan came to visit us during her college spring break I had taken another little step by stealing a pair of her panties. Once again Kelly could tell I was feeling guilty, and rather than admit to the next little step I had taken, I just told her I felt guilty for jerking off to her pictures again.

Kelly's response? She took our gender bending role play to another level by pegging me while we both looked at her daughter's Instagram together. She is the best sex partner a pervert has ever had. Oh, and she is also my big sister.

So, in the weeks after Reagan returned to college - minus one pair of soiled panties - I kept telling myself that my little obsession had gone far enough. Those panties would be my last score. It seemed like it would be easy to stop there, because Kelly would occasionally ask me if I wanted to look at more Reagan pics while we fucked, so I got to actively perv on my niece while fucking my sister.

It should have been enough. I was in the most rewarding relationship of my life, and I not only got to revel in the taboo of doing twisted things to my sister, but she was also open to playing along with my attraction to her own daughter.

It really should've been enough, but, sadly, for me it wasn't. I was looking forward to the end of the semester, because Reagan was coming to spend the summer with us rather than going back to her dad's house in Texas. I was spending all my free time thinking about having unlimited access to Reagan's dirty laundry, not to mention seeing her trapse around the house in her tight yoga pants and little shorts.

However, after Reagan's freshman year wrapped up, she shocked us both by announcing she was only staying with us for a few weeks. She said that after Memorial Day she was going to be spending the summer in Virginia Beach with a few friends.

While I was bummed that I wasn't going to have three months of close access to my little crush, Kelly was actually crushed. She had put so much effort into improving her relationship with Reagan since the divorce, and now she felt rejected all over again.

She fumed to me about it all while Reagan was in the shower, and there was nothing I could say to make her feel better. The next morning over breakfast Kelly pushed her further about what was going on. Reagan finally said she just wanted to spend time with her friends and that she wanted to feel like a grown up.

That made sense to me, but Kelly was still hurt. So much so that she kept picking at Reagan about her choice, and I could tell that it was only serving to make Reagan more angry with her mother. Early the next morning while I was working, I heard them shouting at each other out on the patio. I stood by the cracked window to eavesdrop, and I heard Kelly offer to move into the guest room so Reagan could spend the summer in "her apartment" over the garage.

One of the reasons we bought this house together (other than the fact it was close to Reagan's college) was because it had a little In-Law Suite over the garage. This set up made it more plausible that we were living there as single adult siblings rather than and incestuous couple. But, when no one was around it just sat empty anyway, so Reagan might as well have it.

After their talk/argument Reagan went out for a hike and I approached Kelly to see what had happened, but she was really standoffish. Ultimately she grabbed her keys and said she had to go shopping.

I was at a total loss for how to make her feel better. As for myself, I ended up getting an amazing opportunity to improve my mood when Reagan returned from her run and plopped down on the sofa.

I was in the kitchen and I saw her enter her code into her phone over her shoulder: 7139. She played on her phone for awhile and I returned to my office with my sandwich. A bit later, I heard the shower start up so I snuck into her room and saw her phone plugged in on the bedside table.

7139, and I was in.

I went right to her camera roll and hit the jackpot. Mixed in among her shots of cups of coffee and spider webs clinging to the trees on our property were a lot of nudes. Like, a whole lot. More than I could have even hoped for. As I stood there trying to figure out what to do with them I heard the shower stop.

I locked her phone, and carefully placed it back on the table where I had found it before tiptoeing back across the hall to my office in the 3rd bedroom. I was disappointed when she was in there for, like ten more minutes before I heard her walk from the bathroom to the bedroom.

Damn it! I would've had the time to do something with all those nudes!

I spent the whole rest of the day scheming how I could get a hold of all of them. I thought about emailing them to myself or saving them onto a SD card, but ultimately I set up a fake new Google account that I was going to set as an automatic backup for all her pictures.

I was smugly satisfied with this creepy and fucked up plan until I saw Kelly's face when she came back from her shopping trip. She looked miserable, and I felt awful. Sadly, not awful enough to ditch my plan, even thought I had plenty of time to reconsider.

For the next 10 days as Memorial day approached I just couldn't ever seem to find a time when Reagan was away from her phone, and Kelly was also not around. I started to think of it as a sign that I had already gone too far and I just needed to give up on my new fucked up obsession.

Making matters worse was the fact that Kelly and I hadn't fucked since Reagan showed up. Kelly was stuck in the apartment and when we did get a moment alone when Reagan was sequestered in her room, out on her hikes, or shopping Kelly never wanted to risk that we'd get caught if Reagan returned unexpectedly.

I'm not making excuses for what I ended up doing, but I will say that I was exceedingly horny, and the more forbidden Reagan was, the more I ultimately wanted her. That night, I woke up in the middle of a remarkably vivid sex dream where Kelly and Reagan were grinding their pussies together while I watched, and even after getting myself off I couldn't fall back asleep.

The next day I was just as cranky as Kelly when I came sleeplessly down the stairs. Reagan was up already and hunkered down in my chair in the corner, once again staring at her phone. The phone that held my prize.

I headed upstairs to work after making and pouring an obscenely large cup of coffee. I fumbled my way through work and actually put my head down on my desk in the middle of a very boring call. Kelly stirred me awake with a light knock on the door.

"I'm heading down to Farmville to get Rey's oil changed and pick up a few things at Walmart for her to take to the beach, do you need anything?"

I thanked her for asking, and told I didn't need anything and off she went. About 10 minutes later I heard her roll down the driveway to run her errands. About an hour later when my meeting ended, I headed downstairs to get more coffee only to find Reagan napping on the couch.

I quietly walked toward the couch and lightly picked up her phone before standing there for a second watching her sleep. This was the most creepy I had ever felt in my life. Did it stop me? Of course not. 7139 and I was in again. I opened her Google Pictures app and was about to go to settings in order to add the email address I had made as a backup location when I heard her sniffle and stir a bit.

I panicked and went to put the phone back on the coffee table, but then saw that she was still sleeping. I knew I was truly out on a ledge here so I thought about just emailing myself a few pics quickly rather than going through the steps to back them all up.

I kicked myself for not carrying my USB that I had gotten for just this reason. When I opened her email to send pics to myself I saw that she had a ton of notifications from OnlyFans, so I closed out of Gmail and went to the OF app on her phone and saw why she was taking all those nudes!

There was the profile for Lanie Licious, 19, of Houston along with a topless shot of Reagan taken in her dorm room as the profile pic. Her intro readWell hi there! I'm Lanie and I'm a southern pastor's daughter who is fully embracing being a fallen angel, lol. What you'll find on my page: nudes, nudes and more nudes tee-hee. Plus unlockable vids once a week and much more. See my pinned post for custom pricing. I'm looking forward to getting to know you!

In that moment I abandoned the plan of somehow getting her photos out of her phone, and assuaged my mounting guilt by telling myself it'd be better if I were paying her for her work, even though she's my niece.

After softly placing her phone back down I jumped up the steps back to my desk, invigorated by filthy perverted lust rather than more coffee. I opened my personal laptop and went to OnlyFans to set up an account.

I was carful to not pick a fake name that would arouse instant suspicion like Connor Patrick or anything close to my own name. I went with Nick Edwards which felt like a fake name that didn't seem obviously fake.

I had to split my attention between finishing setting up the account and a work meeting, but before long Nick Edwards was ready to go with a credit card attached for payment. Then I searched for Reagan's account and was bummed out when I couldn't find it. I tried a bunch of different spellings to no avail.

"Shoulda taken a pic of her account with my phone" I rebuked myself in an audible mumble.

As a software developer I could see that the OnlyFans search feature is decidedly finicky. It is an exact match search which means if you are looking for Felicia Foxx and type Felicia Fox it won't return any results, so I had to get the spelling just right.

Then one of the coders on my call mentioned GIS Validations for an open systems database conversion we were doing, and I couldn't believe how dumb I was. A quick search on Opera confirmed that OnlyFans does offer Geo Blocking, so I just needed to fire up my VPN and search again.

This time when I searched Lanie Licious the profile popped right up with the same picture and intro I had seen on her phone. I decided not to subscribe right away, and instead subbed to a few of the pages it recommended instead. This way when I did sub to Reagan's page, I wouldn't be a brand new account only following her.

I may have been overthinking all of this a tad bit.

The rest of the day went by in a flash and when Kelly returned from her errands I was in much better spirits, despite my shitty night of sleep. My own good mood only served as a very stark contrast to her increasingly bad one, with the date of Reagan's departure getting closer.

I let two days pass before finally subscribing to Reagan's account, and when I did I was instantly in heaven. Seconds after paying the 50% discounted price of $10 I got a notification that she had sent me a message. It was obviously automated, and read:

Thanks for joining my wicked fantasy! Enjoy watching my sexual desires being brought to life between myself and others :)

Like all my posts and DM me "Liked" for a special video in your messages.

DM me "Personal" to talk about fulfilling your wicked fantasy with a custom video!

I instantly set about liking all her 107 posts to get that special video, and I saw that they went all the way back to the previous October, shortly after she arrived on campus. There was even a picture from March showing her touching her pussy in our guest shower.

When I was done I messagedliked and followed that withPersonal in a second message.

I sat waiting for a few minutes and then got up to head downstairs to make some lunch. Reagan was sitting in my chair with the phone in her face as usual. I couldn't help but wonder if she was on her OF account at that moment replying to Nick.

When I went back upstairs after lunch I got my answer. She had sent me two messages, the first was the thank you video which turned out to be titled JOI for Daddy, and the second was a message that readHi Nick, thanks for subbing and liking all my posts. How did you find me? What kind of custom would you be interested in? They are $25 a min and usually take a few days to turn around

I saw that she had a Twitter linked to her account so I saidHi Lanie! I stumbled across you on Twitter when I was following Barbi Baddie. I'd totally be into a custom at that price, just give me some time to think of what I want

I almost never locked my office door, but after a few minutes of scrolling through all of Reagan's nudes I badly needed to jerk off, so I reached over and pushed the lock in. Next, I poked around people's Outlook calendars for a sufficiently boring and official sounding meeting, and before too long I was playing a Scrum call through my speakers as I leaned back in my chair jerking off to Reagan's JOI video.

She really leaned in to the combination of the daddy fantasy and the pastor's daughter, even though her dad wasn't the pastor, her grandfather was. I was willing to let it slide though and fully buy in.

"I'm sorry I've had such dirty and impure thoughts daddy, and I'm even more sorry that my whorishness has lead you to sin in your heart. I know we can't act on our filthy desires in the flesh, but maybe if I help you purge yourself of evil, we can walk in the light of the lord again together. Do you have your lube? Ok, good... let's get started."

If there is a gene for kink and perversion, I'm positive Kelly and I have it. This video was going a long way to proving to me that Reagan did too.

I couldn't help but mutter her desired responses when she prompted them through my headphones, just hoping that no one could hear me over the dull drone of Agility in action coming out of my speakers.

"I know I'm a bad little temptress for asking, but do you like the way my little hole looks all shaved like this?" she asked pulling her panties to the side to reveal a completely hairless pussy.

"Yes, I like it baby." I spit, under my breath

Some people just can't pull off roleplay. One of my favorite songs has a line "its not your style, I can see, you crack a smile" in reference to bedroom roleplay. Then there are people who can fully immerse themselves in the chosen role. Kelly and I were good - hardly ever breaking - and usually great at keeping in the backstory, but Reagan was next level.

Perhaps it had something to do with her generation being more comfortable talking to a camera than to real people, but as she pouted on my screen looking into the camera and asking "daddy" why he wants to fuck his little girl so badly, when they both know its wrong, it felt fully authentic.

And perhaps it has something to do with my generation being utterly concerned with not wanting to be seen as fake, a sellout, or a poser, but authenticity does it for me more than almost anything else.

A lot of people can get off to a perfect ten who is obviously just going through the motions to get paid, and I have no problem with that. People can get off to whatever they want, plus, in my eyes sex work is just work, and I don't expect that everyone will be having the best day of their lives at work. No matter if they are serving me a Big Mac or taking a big load.

But to me, I'd rather watch, listen to, or read a far less conventionally attractive person sharing themselves honestly than the most glamorous and "perfect" starlet any day.

Now, here was my own niece sitting back against the wall of her dorm room with her knees up and her right ring and middle fingers curling into her bald pussy as she stared into the camera and conducted a symphony of lust and shame like a fucking virtuosos.

The video was only 9 minutes and change, but it was all I needed. I pulled a balled up paper towel off my desk and held it in my right hand, vigorously stroking with my left as she lead up to the culmination of this sordid little endeavor.

"Are you almost ready daddy? The only way we can purge ourselves of this evil is to get it out of our bodies. We'll do this as often as we have to in order to save our souls daddy. You'll stroke your cock thinking of your little girl, and I'll rub my dirty hole until we both dispel all the evil from us... ugh..."

With that her head flopped back and she began to come, and so did I. I missed the first spurt which landed on my black t-shirt, but I caught the rest as I smothered the head of my erupting dick with the paper towel. Reagan was still bucking and twitching on screen, mumbling "have... to... get... all the evil... out, daddy."

I was fully spent as I sat there still leaned back in my chair for a few minutes with the gloopy paper towel still covering my softening dick. When I stood up I realized I had a half dollar sized stain on my shirt as well as a few smaller ones down further so I picked up my now cold coffee an spilled it down my front as cover until I could change.

As the day wore on I went from self-satisfied to an utterly guilty feeling. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried I couldn't power through my shame like I had in my relationship with Kelly. I also couldn't put a finger on what the shame was. Was it jerking off to Reagan, or was it continuing to keep things a secret from Kelly?

That night, as I lay alone in the bed that I usually shared with my sister, I was lost in thought. I felt hotter than usual and tried tossing the blanket aside, but to no avail. I tossed, turned, and tried - unsuccessfully - to grasp at the rapidly flashing thoughts that fired through my brain.

I couldn't translate this electrical and chemical morse code into cogent thought, but I did get a thumb nail. You're in danger. This is bad. STOP.

I'm not the first man to listen to his dick rather than his nervous system or subconscious, and I certainly won't be the last.

The next day Reagan set off for Virginia Beach and, of course, Kelly was really down in the dumps. I wrapped my arms around her in the kitchen and told her how sorry I was that she was in pain, but she seemed inconsolable.

After dinner I offered to help move her things back into the big house from the apartment, but she surprised me by saying "maybe tomorrow, Paddy. I just kind of need to be alone right now."

I went to bed that night resentful and fully focused on myself, like total prick. Once again I tossed and turned and did a literal on-again, off-again battle with my blankets as my body seemed unable to maintain a consistent temperature. I oscillated wildly between feeling guilty and hard done by. I'd feel angry at myself for what I was doing, then, a few minutes later I'd tell myself 'life is short and you deserve pleasure, and you're not hurting anyone.'